September 19, 2013--Midcoast: Power Washer

Our front deck is looking awful.

Is it acid rain from Canada or the spruce tree that hovers above that's causing the discoloration?  We suspect it's the tree because out back, on the water side, where the deck is roofed over, the blue-gray stain is looking as fresh as when Joey Jacobs applied it this past spring.

He said, "Get it power-washed. If I wasn't so busy with other jobs I'd come by myself and get it done."

So we hired Armando, who didn't power wash it but scrubbed it down with a stiff mop. It took him the better part of an hour but it turned out well, quite fresh. But then, within a month, it was again looking all scuffed up.

Feeling frustrated, Rona said, "Let's go to Damariscotta Hardware. I think they rent power washers. We can do this ourselves. It looks like a chronic problem and, while we're there,  maybe let's see how much they cost to buy. Renting isn't cheap. I think it's $40 for a minimum of four hours."

We got a lesson in power washers. The store was quiet and one of the salesmen, Nate, back in the rental section, was happy to have customers wanting to learn about PSI (pounds per square inch of water pressure) and how, since at 3,200 PSI the force of the water is so strong it'll strip the paint off the wood decking, for our needs, we should look for a model that either has a way to adjust the power or find one where the PSI is 1,600.

Nate said, "That's the right power for your type of deck-cleaning work."

"If we get one," Rona thought out loud, "maybe we should go for the adjustable version. At 1,600 we could wash our decks and then there might be times we'd like to do some paint-stripping. On the shed, for example. It's looking kind of shabby."

"I don't know," I said. "Look at the more powerful one. It's about the size of a compact car. There wouldn't be room in the shed for it. Even in an unpainted, shabby-looking one." I smiled in her direction.

"And it does cost $40 to rent one," Rona noticed, "for the huge one, though."

"Which we really don't need," I added. "And besides, it wouldn't fit in the car. Do you rent 1,600s?" I asked Nate.

"Unfortunately, only the jumbo ones." He had us sized up correctly--do-it-yourselfers, not pretending to be contractors. "My advice is that you guys take a look at these." He pointed high up on the shelf where there was something that looked much like a stand-up vacuum cleaner. "That baby there, which by the way is on sale, is a power washer that tops out at 1,600 PSI, and for less than the price of two rentals it can be yours. We have just two left and they've been going fast. So I recommend if you want one, you don't hesitate."

"It looks kind of small for real power washing," Rona said, feeling more and more comfortable speaking Nate's language.

"That's the beauty of it. It's highly rated, very compact and light-weight--just 16 pounds--and you can't beat the sale price. I think it goes for $66 plus tax. You won't find a better price on the Internet, even without having to pay tax and shipping."

"It's times like this that I wish we had a smart phone," Rona sighed.

"We both hate them," I reminded her, "Maybe we should go home, check out the Internet, and then decide."

"Here, use my phone," Nate offered. "See what you can find."

"I don't know how to use one," I said with an embarrassed shrug.

"Nor do I," Rona confessed. "All I know is that I don't like them."

"No problem," Nate said with understanding, "Folks just like you come in every day and I let them use my phone to comparison-shop right here in the store. If our price passes muster, I'd rather them buy from us on the spot rather than go home and decide to order on line or go to Home Depot.

By then he had found the North American AR 142 on his phone and slid it over to us. "You look, Rona," I said. "If I touch it I know I'll mess it up," wondering what Nate meant when he said, "folks like you." I decided not to pursue it since I knew it wouldn't be flattering.

"Can't seem to do better than $66," Rona found after searching for a few minutes. "You know this little thing," she waved the phone in my direction, "is pretty useful. Maybe we should . . ."

I cut her off, "Let's focus on one thing at a time--in this case the AR 142." Using just the model number, I was hoping to counter how Nate had stereotyped us. Or, more likely, me.

"That's what I'd recommend," he said, sounding encouraging. "You know it comes in that box," he pointed to a box much smaller than the AR 142 on display.

"And that means," I winked at him, "it needs some assembly."

He nodded, "Think you're up to that?" I was hoping we--actually, I-- had impressed him enough so he wouldn't be thinking about those folks just like us.

"As a matter of fact," I pulled myself up straight as I could, "I happen to be real good at assembly. Wouldn't you agree, Rona?" She was making an effort to ignore me and had already moved on to look at pruning shears.

So to Nate I continued, "When I was just 10 years-old, for my birthday, my Aunt Madeline bought me the largest Gilbert Erector set they made. With it, using girders, angle brackets, screws, nuts, bolts, pulleys, and gears, all with the screwdriver and wrench included, I made bridges and tunnels and even a huge motorized Ferris wheel just like the one in Coney Island." I grinned broadly, remembering those sweet days and feeling proud of myself and also hoping to impress Nate with my mechanical dexterity. "So with the assembly we should be fine, just fine."

Back at the house I took the AR 142, still in its box, out to the shed where, I was certain, I had all the tools required to put it together. Just like in the old days in Brooklyn. "It should take me maybe 20 minutes," all puffed up I said to Rona. "Then we can give it a test on the front steps. You know, start small."

Rona stared in my direction, studiously ignoring me.

To be concluded tomorrow . . .